Paint it Black
by TheGoldenSeraphim
Summary: Follow the Black heirs and heiresses through the events that made them who they are today, and the moments when their world changed. COMPLETE
1. Black Sword

**Black Sword**

She knew when she was eleven years old.

September the 1st had been the same for her as it was for every other new Hogwarts student. She had been dropped off at the train station at ten thirty that morning by her doting and proud parents and her sad but slightly jealous little sister, Cissy–

Narcissa! Blacks were too dignified for nicknames, her mother had said.

She had followed Andi – Andromeda! – onto the Hogwarts Express and quickly found a compartment with Severus Snape, a half-blood whom she had met many times in the past few years. It seemed that his mother was hoping to match them up, and that would suit the Blacks just fine – their daughter married to a member of the Prince family! – if it weren't for the boy's father.

Others entered their compartment – Walden Macnair, Rabastan Lestrange, Theodore Nott, Evan Rosier, and a small boy named Matthias Wilkes – and sat with them. They spent the train ride bemoaning the loss of leaders with a true vision for the future.

When they arrived at Hogwarts, she was sorted into Slytherin, as her parents had hoped, rather than Ravenclaw, like And – Andromeda. She sat with Snape, Macnair, Lestrange and a group of third years – including Rabastan's older brother, who watched him with pride – sniggering and belittling the dotty old man at the center of the head table.

And when he rose to give his start of term speech after the feast, she was just a bit slow to fall silent before he spoke.

Father had always said that Dumbledore was a bumbling old fool, after all. He'd never been able to outsmart the Dark Lord, had he?

She'd sneered throughout the old man's entire speech, chuckled with the other Slytherins on the walk to the dungeons, then thrown herself into a chair in the common room and longed for home.

Frowning slightly, she wondered what An – Andromeda was doing in the Ravenclaw commons. Her sister was a sixth year now, and maybe now that she was here she'd be able to find out what her fights with her parents had been about in the previous year. When And – Andromeda had come home for Christmas the year before, their parents – and Aunt Walburga and Uncle Orion – had been furious about the letter they'd received from Professor Slughorn.

Bellatrix was insatiably curious, but she wasn't worried. After all, And – Andromeda was a Black. There was no way she was doing something so terrible as dating a Mudblood.

Reassured, her mind turned to home once more, and she wondered if Cis – Narcissa was asleep yet. Would she be holding her stuffed frog, which she always insisted would one day become a prince? Would she have missed Bellatrix at all?

Did she cry?

They had sat together and cried when And – Andromeda left, she remembered. Bellatrix had been six years old, her sister only four, and they had huddled together on Andi's bed and cried themselves to sleep.

_Andromeda! Blacks are too dignified!_

_Yes, Mother_, she thought dutifully.

_Mother_.

All of a sudden, she missed home with a vengeance. She wanted to run and hide in the treehouse in their backyard again, pulling Cissy along to play dollhouse as Andi made their excuses. She wanted to be sweet little Bella again, curled up in her big sister's lap, reading a story about princes and princesses and happily-ever-after that she would have to hide as soon as her mother woke up. She wanted to forget about Dark Lords and wars and blood and status and just _be_.

The tears broke free and she curled up in the armchair, her head pillowed on her arms as she wept.

"Hey, little Bell," a voice interrupted, and Bellatrix looked up to see a black-haired boy watching her with a smile. "Miss your parents?"

Bellatrix Black was far too young and sheltered to recognize the smile of a predator.

Looking up at Rodolphus Lestrange, the boy she'd idolized since she was six, she knew.

She knew she'd do anything to have him look at _her_ with pride in his eyes.

In that moment, sweet little Bella Black died. And Bellatrix was all that remained.


	2. Black Sheep

**Black Sheep**

She made her decision when she was sixteen years old.

It was easier than she'd thought it would be, deciding. She'd spent her whole life being taught all about the honor of being of the Noble and Most Ancient House of Black – yet she was fully prepared to throw all of that away for one person.

The world had a strange undercurrent of irony, to make her fall in love with a Muggleborn boy.

But what choice had there been? The moment she realized she loved him, she knew. She would have to between the Black family and Ted, no matter how much he'd tried to keep her from having to choose.

She was tired of hiding their relationship. She was tired of acting ashamed.

She _wasn't_ ashamed? And why should she be? Ted was a good man.

He was certainly better than that _Lestrange_ that Bella was pining after. First year or not, her sister had already decided that Rodolphus Lestrange was the man she wanted to marry.

And as depressing as it was, Bellatrix probably _would_ marry him.

She could only hope that, of the three of them, Narcissa would follow in _her_ footsteps.

She could only pray that sweet little Cissy would marry for love.

After all, being a person who _was_ in love, she could happily tell anyone who asked how wonderful it was.

And she was _not_ ashamed. If there was one thing her mother had taught her, it had been that it didn't matter worth a damn what other people thought about what a person chose to do.

Granted, her mother had wanted Andromeda to want the same things she had – but that didn't matter anymore. It was no longer possible.

But however easy that the decision may have been, the thought of carrying it out was horrifying. She would have nowhere to go if she did this – and she was still a sixth year. Hopefully, Amanda hadn't been kidding when she said that Andi could go to her for a place to stay. Hopefully, Mr. and Mrs. McKinnon agreed with their eldest daughter.

And it wasn't like her parents loved her. So why was she still standing here?

Fear.

It was nothing unusual, fear holding her back. Fear _always_ held her back. Fear stopped her from trying to teach Bella that their parents were wrong about Muggleborns, were wrong about that rising maniac, were wrong about –

– everything.

Fear stopped her. It always had.

But it wasn't fear that had caused her to fall in love with Ted. It wasn't fear that had put her in this position.

And fear wouldn't hold her there.

Taking a deep breath, Andromeda Black turned on her heel and left the Ravenclaw dorms.

**PAINT IT BLACK**

The Great Hall was abuzz with the typical mealtime chatter as she strode into the room. Her eyes focused straight ahead, she walked along the Ravenclaw table with a single-minded determination –

– and stopped beside Theodore Tonks.

"Mind if I sit here?" she asked with a slight smile, and Ted stared at her. Not waiting for his answer, she settled in beside him and leaned against his side smiling at him brightly as she reached out and placed her hand over his on the table. "How was your day?"

The Great Hall fell silent.

"Uh…" Ted replied dumbly. "Alright? Y-you?"

She smiled at him, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Amanda was grinning from ear to ear, and that Bellatrix was paler than usual, staring at her big sister in shock.

Such a simple gesture and yet, it was all she needed to do to break away.

Andromeda felt free.

"Never better," she replied lightly. She smiled once more at her extremely flustered boyfriend – and future fiancée, if she had anything to say about it… which, of course, she did – and turned to her meal.

_Take that, Mother_.

Oh, there would be consequences, she knew that. Bellatrix would hate her for life – she wasn't quite certain about Narcissa – and her parents would undoubtedly disown her.

But what did that matter? She knew who she was now, and she was free.

Andromeda Black, soon to be Andromeda Tonks.

She grinned broadly. Somehow… nothing her mother had ever wanted for her mattered anymore. She liked the sound of a new name.

As Ted finally regained his composure and began talking to her about their latest Charms essay, all fears and concerns faded from her mind.

She could get used to this.


	3. Black Night

**Black Night**

She was fifteen years old when her world fell apart.

It was Christmas Eve, and word had come earlier that day of Bella joining the Death Eaters. Her mother had owled Andromeda to gloat only three hours before, but Narcissa wasn't so foolish as to believe her sister would reply. Of all of the blacks, Andromeda had only contacted Narcissa, Sirius and Uncle Alphard since she graduated from Hogwarts and moved out of Black Manor. She'd married that Mud – Muggleborn, Ted, if Narcissa remembered correctly. Only two days before, she had received an owl from Andi saying that she was going to be an aunt.

Narcissa tried hard not to think about what the world would be like for that little half-blood girl growing in her sister's body.

She was tired, drained, and lonely – Sirius was long gone, hadn't contacted any of them in well over a year. Bellatrix was so very out of reach, Regulus had become distant and secretive –

Tiptoeing to the balcony, she looked down and saw her mother, father, aunts and uncles – except for Alphard – gathered in the backyard and laughing uproariously. They were drunk, she realized, so it was safe.

Moving swiftly and carefully, she swept up the stairs in her fancy, expensive robes – how she _hated_ the things – and slipped into her father's study.

There was a document in here, an owl he had received a week before, which had caused both him and her mother great joy.

With a whispered spell, she locked the doors and cast a quick notice-me-not charm. Slowly, she knelt before her father's large desk, impatiently brushing her long, blonde hair out of the way as she slid a drawer open. Paperwork about the house, unsigned documents to disown Sirius – her throat tightened as she stared at them and, with a deep breath, she crumpled the papers, stuffing them into a pocket of her robes and vowed to burn them later – nothing of import. Cursing wickedly under her breath, she moved on to the next drawer, then the next and the next.

Nothing.

Rocking back onto her heels, she gazed about the room, her luminous blue eyes bright with worry. Perhaps she'd imagined it, the way their eyes had slid to her as the read the document –

No. Whatever it was, it was about her.

And if it would make her parents that joyous, it was something to be feared.

It was an hour before she found it. Shoved behind a panel in her father's desk, hidden by a fake bottom in the drawer was a small piece of paper bearing three seals she recognized:

The Black family seal, the official Ministry seal, and the seal of the Malfoy family.

_Notice of betrothal between  
Narcissa__ Black  
And  
Lucius Malfoy_

With shaking hands, she carefully placed the document back into her father's hiding place and ran from the room.

Up two flights of stairs and down a narrow hallway and she flung herself into her room, trembling with fear. Her mouth dry, she ran to her owl's cage and grabbed a piece of parchment and a self-inking quill and quickly penned two words:

_Help me. _

Still trembling, she fixed the letter to her owl's leg and whispered her cousin's name in its little ear. But just as the owl was about to soar out her window, someone knocked on her door.

Paling, Narcissa ripped the parchment off her owl's leg and shoved it in a drawer.

"Yes?" she called, and her father entered.

"I've something to tell you tomorrow, Narcissa," Cygnus Black said gravely, and idly, Narcissa realized that her father wasn't quite as drunk as she'd thought. "It might come as a shock at first, but I'm certain you'll come around. Do the Blacks proud, 'Cissa," he ordered gruffly, smiling at her, and despite herself, Narcissa smiled back.

"I will, Father," she replied evenly, and the man smiled at her once more, then reached out and ruffled her hair before turning and leaving the room.

Narcissa stared blankly at the door as it shut behind her father and dazedly, she reached up and touched a hand to her mussed hair. Her father had never given any sort of sign of affection before – _Blacks are too dignified for signs of affection_ – yet now that he had her married off, he was proud of her.

Was that what it would take? Her marriage to that – that – _Malfoy_?

Sliding the drawer of her desk open, Narcissa pulled the letter she'd been about to send to Sirius out and stared at it. She couldn't do this, couldn't marry a Malfoy –

–could she?

_Do the Blacks proud, 'Cissa_.

_Blacks are too dignified for nicknames_, she remembered her mother saying – no one but Andromeda had called her by a nickname in so very long…

With a tired shake of her head, she pulled the crumpled papers out of the pocket of her robes, the papers meant to disown Sirius. She smoothed them across her desk, her eyes roving over every line of the first page. She wondered what Sirius was doing at the moment – was he happy with his friends, with the blood traitors and the werewolf? Was he happier without them, without her?

Her decision was made.

She carefully placed her letter for help on top of the disowning papers. With a deep breath, she raised her wand. "_Incendio_," she breathed, and the papers went up in smoke.

She sat there, unmoving, for hours, staring at the papers long after all of the smoke had curled away and the ashes crumbled into a messy pile on her desk. Finally, she shook herself and turned to gaze out the window, wondering if she could run like Sirius had, wondering if anyone would take _her_ in without question…

But no. She would do the Blacks proud.

_Narcissa__ Malfoy, _she thought dully. _Narcissa_ _Black Malfoy._

With a resigned sigh, she glanced down at the still-open drawer of her desk and removed another piece of parchment. Maybe, just maybe, if she married that – thing, Bella would call her "Cissy" again.

_Dearest Bellatrix,_

_You'll never believe what's happened. I have discovered that I am betrothed to be married to Lucius Malfoy immediately upon my graduation from Hogwarts. Though I am incredibly shocked, I realize that this is for the best – I will be well provided-for as the matron of the Malfoy family. And Lucius is an incredibly handsome man, whatever his flaws – any child of his will be simply gorgeous. I find myself hoping that you will consent to stand with me on my wedding day… I wish that dear Andromeda would be with us, but I fear that Mother and Father would never allow it – and rightfully so. I don't want that Mudblood she married at _my _wedding. He would simply foul the air. _

_Mother and Father are so pleased about what you've been doing – they are ever so proud of you, and I find myself wondering if I…_


	4. Black Truth

**Black Truth**

He sat silently in the room, staring at the locket.

It glittered innocently in the candlelight, the flames flickering over its shining surface. It looked so unimportant, so simple –

Could he really do this?

He thought of Bella. Sweet Bellatrix Black, who had bandaged his knees when he fell and skinned them – she was Bellatrix Lestrange now, and a passionate follower of the Dark Lord. Narcissa. Wonderful Cissy, his best friend in those years before Hogwarts – married off to that monster. Andi, who had been like a second mother to him before he found out she was dating that – that _Muggleborn_ – what would she think of him now?

Sirius.

Sirius, who hated him.

Sirius, who had cast him aside without a second thought.

He could still see his older brother's face, the disgust in his eyes as he looked at "little Reggie". He could still see the disdain on Sirius's face as his older brother forced his sleeve up and stared at the Dark Mark.

He could still feel Sirius's robes whipping across his face as his big brother turned and walked away from him. Still hear the shouts, feel the curses flying through the wind as he dodged the Aurors that Sirius set on him.

He could still feel the pain, the sense of betrayal as he stumbled into Grimmauld Place that night as a fugitive. Could still hear his mother's enraged screams as she saw the blood dripping from her youngest son's arm.

One of the Aurors, a bald black man – Kingsley Shacklebolt, he thought it was – had hit him right on the Dark Mark with a cutting curse. The man had terrific aim.

Grimacing, he brought his hand up and clutched at his forearm, sliding the sleeve of his robes up. Looking down, he smiled sadly as he saw the brand marring his skin.

Once upon a time, he'd thought it was a mark of honor.

But it wasn't Sirius that was the abomination, was it? It was the Dark Lord himself, with his fear of death, his bandying with the natural order of life.

The natural order was life, then death. So it always had been. So it always would be.

Even the Dark Lord couldn't escape that.

Could he do this? Regulus wondered.

Yes, he knew suddenly. He could.

He'd have to work quickly. The Dark Lord could not be fooled for long. The Dark Marks, he'd learned from Bella, connected his followers to the Dark Lord in more ways than one. Their master could see into his followers' minds, and only a superb Occlumens could even hope to fool him for long.

The best that Regulus could hope was that the Dark Lord's attention was focused elsewhere until his task was completed.

Picking up his quill, he slowly began to write.

_To the Dark Lord_

_I know I will be dead long before you read this but I want you to know…_


	5. Black Hole

**Black Hole**

Sirius Black climbed off his motorcycle, eyes grim as he gazed at the small cottage near the woods. The lights were off and all the windows shuttered, doors shut up tight. He strode up to the front door, his leather feather duster billowing in the late-night breeze. With an absent frown, he pulled the coat tight around his narrow frame. The Halloween night was chilly and dismal.  
He rapped on the door, once, twice, three times, frowning all the while. Dear old Peter – probably holed up in the basement, shaking… or maybe drowning his sorrows in a bottle of gin. 

He waited impatiently

No one came to the door.

Frowning, he went to the back door, knocking more insistently this time.   
Three minutes passed.

Nothing.

The wind picked up around him and Sirius felt the chill growing, the night seeming to become more dismal before his eyes. "Peter?" he called, slipping his wand from his sleeve. "You all right, mate?"

No answer.

Anxious now, Sirius raised his wand, scanning the surroundings quickly. No sign of a struggle – no footprints that weren't his… He gazed steadily at the door, gripping his wand tightly, and with a wordless spell –

The door's hinges exploded and quickly, Sirius kicked the door in, sweeping quickly into the cottage. His eyes swept his surroundings immediately as he walked through the small kitchenette, quickly noting that there was nothing out of place – on the contrary, the place was immaculate. That was unusual for Peter. He was usually such a packrat.

"Peter?" he called again.

Silence.

Scared now, he moved quickly through the living room, checked the bathroom, the bedroom – nothing. His heart pounding, he opened the basement door with a shaking hand, wincing as it creaked.

"You down there, Wormtail? Did someone get in?"

No answer.

"_Lumos_," he whispered, and slowly, his throat tight, he descended the stairs.

The basement was filthy, cobwebs and dust bunnies everywhere, dirt all over the floor. Absently, Sirius kicked at a box on the floor, staring as a paper fell out. Nervously, he picked the slip of paper up.

_The Potters can be found at number 1 Gryffin Lane in Godric's Hollow. _

**_Of course,_**Sirius thought as finally, the memory of his friends' location came rushing back to him._ Where else would they be? _

Feeling an odd sense of relief mingled with dread, he looked up and glanced around the basement. No Peter – human or rat. Where could he–?

**_There is a traitor among us_**, Dumbledore's voice whispered through his mind. The meeting nary a month ago… Immediately, Sirius paled. "No," he whispered, shaking, the paper falling from his hand and drifting carelessly to the ground.

_You-Know-Who's recruiting all the Dark Creatures! Vampires, Giants…** werewolves!**_ Peter's voice squeaked in his mind.

**_There is a traitor among us… _**

**_ A traitor among us… _**

**_ A traitor among us… _**

"PETER!" Sirius screamed.

**PAINT IT BLACK**

He pounded up the steps frantically, swinging his wand in every possible direction as he checked the perimeter for Death Eaters. Trembling, he crossed the rickety porch of the old cabin and banged on the door, cursing all the while.

"Remus?" he called, his hair swinging wildly in the breeze. "Remus? MOONY!"

No answer. Swearing under his breath, he walked around to the back door – and froze when he saw the note pinned to the door

_"You didn't trust me.   
You didn't listen.   
The hell with you." _

_ The hell with you_. Shaking, he crumbled the note in his hand, tears springing to his eyes. And remembered a time, years before, when someone else had said that to him. When Bellatrix had become dead to him.

_You're a failure…_ his mother's voice whispered in his mind, and he fought back the sob.

_Peter did this_, he thought with rage. Peter took his brother away.

_No_, he corrected himself bitterly, **_I_**_ let him. _

Turning, he ran back to his motorcycle, overwhelmed with fear. There was only one place Peter could be, and now Sirius was all that stood between Voldemort and the Potters.

He raced up to the clouds and flew as fast as he could, even then knowing he could never make it in time.

Sirius didn't even feel the wind whipping around his frame as he threw the motorbike to the ground. Racing across the rubble, he ran to the giant form standing in the middle of the demolished house. "Hagrid?" he asked uncertainly, his voice quavering. "Hagrid, is that you? Are they–?"

But the half-giant was shaking, and as Sirius drew closer, he heard the man's barely-restrained howls of grief.

_James_, Sirius thought brokenly. _Lily. **Harry!**_

"They never… they never had a chance," Hagrid sobbed as Sirius drew even with him. "Poor little tyke… lost his mummy and daddy already."

"Harry?" Sirius gasped, staring at Hagrid – surely Harry wasn't still alive? "Hagrid, is Harry dead?"

The large man threw his head back, nearly screaming in grief, and Sirius felt his heart shatter.

Then he looked at the bundle in Hagrid's arms.

"Hagrid!" he said sternly, "give him to me! I'm his godfather, I'll look after him–"

"Can't, Sirius," Hagrid said tiredly, quieting, and he sniffled as he gazed down at the bundle of blankets. "Dumbledore's orders – I'm to bring him to Dumbledore."

_Dumbledore_. The name raced through Sirius's mind and he felt an overwhelming flood of relief rush through him. Dumbledore would have to listen to him. Dumbledore would let him go with Harry. Dumbledore would understand –

–nothing.

_Stupid, Black_, he sneered at himself. _Forgotten so quickly, have you? The only living person who knows you're not a traitor is an** infant**! _

"Lily and James would want me to have him, Hagrid," he pleaded softly, and the half-giant cringed.

"Ah, tha' they would," he agreed, "but Dumbledore's orders, Sirius, yeh understand–"

"Yes," Sirius replied slowly. "Yes, I do."

_I could take Harry, _he thought frantically, _overpower Hagrid and run away – _

_ Yes, _a voice in his mind shot back angrily, and Sirius started, _you could. Enjoy making the child grow up on the run. Enjoy explaining to him that he can't go to Hogwarts because they'll find you. Have fun telling him why he can't have any friends, why he – _

He couldn't do that to the poor child.

"I understand," he continued. _There's no proof of my innocence, and they'll all be after me as soon as they realize what's happened. Even if Dumbledore would listen, Bagnold wouldn't let him – she would refuse to use Veritaserum, call it a waste of Ministry funds… _

There was only one chance, he realized. Find Peter and bring him to the Ministry as a hostage. And demand Veritaserum for the both of them.

Even that, he knew, was likely to accomplish nothing but his own imprisonment.

"Take my motorbike, Hagrid," Sirius said quietly, and the half-giant started.

"Eh?" Hagrid replied blearily. "But yeh love tha' thing!"

"You need to get Harry to Dumbledore safely," Sirius said. "You can't Apparate, and you can't make a Portkey. Take my motorbike."

"Are yeh certain?"

"Yes," Sirius replied. Grimly, he gazed at the smoldering ruins surrounding them. "I won't be needing it any longer."

When Hagrid had flown off, Harry held firmly in one of his large hands, Sirius moved through the ruins, kneeling beside his best friend's body. Choking back tears, he quietly said goodbye.

And then he went to Lily.

"You were so brave," he whispered, gazing down at his sister-at-heart. "So very brave. Everything for our little Harry, right? You gave everything for him."

Eyes hardening, he rose to his feet. "Now it's my turn," he murmured, and gently, he shut Lily's unseeing eyes. Turning on his heel, he disappeared with a swish of his feather-duster.

He'd go after Peter, after his chance for freedom, for Harry's sake. But he wouldn't go so far as to believe it would work.

**PAINT IT BLACK**

It was dark in the prison, not that it was ever any different. He wasn't quite certain if it was day or night – there were no windows in his little cell. The Dementors brought his food in perfectly timed rotations, giving no indication whatsoever about the time. He simply received food four times in what he assumed was a twenty-four hour period. And so far, there had been sixty-three twenty-four hour periods. He had been in Azkaban for only two months, and already, he longed for death.

Idly, he wondered where Harry was. Was Dumbledore taking care of him? Did he have a new family? Was he loved?

Did he know it?

And Remus – was his old friend surviving on his own, had the wolf killed him? Had Remus gone crazy with grief?

Did Remus still think him a traitor?

Were Lily and James watching him with disgust even now?

_ You'll be nothing more than a failure_, Walburga Black whispered in his mind. _A failure – you'll betray everyone who loves you, your flesh and blood, your friends, your precious godson – none of them can trust you. You're a **failure**. _

Sirius Black looked up from the dirt floor, eyes staring without sight at the bars that enclosed him. "I know, Mother," he muttered bitterly. "I know."


	6. Black Shield

**Black Shield**

Wrapping her robe tightly around herself, she stumbled from the apartment with tears running down her face. She'd thought he was different, she'd thought he was more interested in _her_ than… But she always thought the next one was different. And none of them ever were.

She'd find her prince someday. No matter how shabby or frayed around the edges he may be, she _would_ find him. She knew he was out there. Nymphadora Tonks had always believed in fairy tale love. After all, look at her parents. They were a modern day Romeo and Juliet if she'd ever seen one.

Only, without the whole tragic-death-thing. Which, really, wasn't much of a loss.

But really, her mother had run away from her parents, denounced her heritage and their politics to marry a muggleborn man. _Her_ mother, one of the Black daughters, had run away to marry a "_mudblood_".

Her sisters had married into the Death Eaters.

But here she was, nineteen years old, and she still hadn't found her prince. She still didn't have the fairy tale. And every guy who approached her was after only one thing.

Glaring angrily at her bubblegum pink hair, she desperately willed it back to its ordinary mousy brown. There were times when she hated her ability, hated what it made people see when they looked at her…

…wouldn't anybody ever just see plain old Tonks?

No. All they ever saw was _Nymphadora_.

Ignoring the shouts from the apartment behind her, Tonks strode out of the building, her mind working furiously. She was tired of being the protected. She wanted – had always wanted – to be a protector. Not the shielded – but the shield.

But there was no way.

Nobody would ever see her as anything but a Metamorphmagus and a –

Well. She wouldn't go there. Not even in her own mind.

She knew she had nothing to complain about. Never matter that she had nearly been raped no less than six times in as many years. Never mind that she had been tricked into more meaningless relationships than the more promiscuous girls in her school had sought out on their own. She wasn't in Azkaban. She still had her freedom. She wasn't married to _Lucius_ _Malfoy_ and raising his bratty pre-teen.

And that was more than dear Aunties Bella and Cissy could say, now wasn't it?

She knew she was lucky. She still had her conscience. She still had her soul. She still had her freedom. And she still had parents that loved her.

So why did she feel so worthless?

As she slammed through the apartment building's front door and into the pouring rain, she heard a sudden commotion behind her. Spinning on her heel, she narrowed her eyes as Worthless Prat #11 came running after her.

"Nymphie, wait!" he shouted in his annoyingly desperate voice. "Wait!"

Her eyes narrowed further. Who the hell did he think he was, calling her 'Nymphie' like that? Ugh. To think that twenty-four hours ago, she would have been thrilled to hear him calling her his "little wood nymph".

She ought to swear off males altogether.

"Nymphie," the man said pleadingly as he came to a halt in front of her, panting quite a bit for someone who had only run down two flights of stairs. "Nymphie, darling, _please_ come back upstairs. We can work things out! Especially," he added, his eyes gleaming brightly as he licked his disgustingly thin lips, "if you take that brunette form you used earli–"

Not allowing him to finish that though, Nymphadora Tonks, her father's pride and joy, swung her arm and punched Worthless Prat #11 square in the nose.

She allowed herself some momentary satisfaction at the sound of his pained scream and watched as blood coated his face before turning yet again and walking off.

But she got no more than a dozen paces before someone called out to her.

"Nice hit!" a man shouted, and Tonks spun around yet again to see a tall, bald-headed black man grinning at her. She studied him carefully, eyes taking in the single gold hoop on one ear and the somewhat hardened quality of his eyes before replying sharply.

"I'm not interested, thank you," she said curtly before turning to walk away yet again.

"Whoa. A bit sure of yourself, aren't you?" the man grinned again, amusement flashing in his eyes. "I wasn't propositioning you, Miss Tonks," he continued. "We've been investigating you for quite a while, and your application has been processed. And accepted, pending your interview."

_Application?_ _Interview? _Tonks stared at the man even as the rainwater started to seep into her robes. "You're an–"

"Auror," he agreed cheerfully in his deep and slow voice. "Kingsley Shacklebolt, Miss Tonks. It's a pleasure to meet you."

Staring at Kingsley Shacklebolt dazedly, Tonks accepted the hand he offered her and shook quickly, letting go almost immediately as she continued to stare at him. "Did you say – accepted?" she asked blankly.

"Pending your interview, yes," Shacklebolt replied. "Is tomorrow afternoon, say around one, suitable for you?"

Tonks didn't remember agreeing. She didn't remember accepting Shacklebolt's business card and Floo address – "in case something comes up and you need to change our appointment". She didn't remember walking the rest of the way to a safe Apparition point and appearing in her parents' foyer. She didn't remember tripping over the coat rack and splitting her lip.

But she remembered the feeling that followed her home that day, the feeling, the sense that she had never felt before, and would never again be without.

Nymphadora Tonks finally had a purpose.


	7. Black Veil

**Black Veil**

Rubbing his head tiredly, Sirius leaned back against the wall of Buckbeak's room and sighed.

He'd given Harry the mirror over five months earlier. And he hadn't heard a single word from his godson. Not one letter, not one contact. Only a firecall when he was afraid of what his father had been like as a child.

Nothing.

He knew he was being far too hard on the boy – hadn't Harry had to look out for himself for twelve years already? That would be a hard habit to break – but he felt so very _useless_. He knew quite well that Harry cared about him.

If only for a moment…. It would have been nice to feel needed.

It _had_ felt wonderful to feel needed. He remembered that moment when he had asked Harry to come live with him, that glorious moment when he had _known_ his freedom was coming soon…

He'd scarcely felt more needed in his life. Or more wanted.

And he'd scarcely felt so since then.

What good was he to Harry, anyway? He was constantly in hiding – a prisoner here – and if he left to help the boy, well, he'd end up making things worse! Whatever Snape might say, he wasn't going to get himself thrown in Azkaban – or worse – again. He wasn't that selfish.

He didn't know if Harry needed him. He really didn't. But that… that was alright.

He knew he needed Harry. The boy was the only thing in the world that still gave him a sense of purpose.

Picking up another ferret, he tossed it absently in Buckbeak's direction.

He looked up when the door opened, ready to call out an absent but uninviting greeting to the person invading his space –

–and froze when Remus stepped through the doorway.

He didn't have to ask. He knew when he saw the look on Remus's face, his shuttered eyes. He knew what had happened.

But still, he asked. "What?"

Remus closed his eyes and said the word Sirius had dreaded most. "Harry."

Shooting to his feet, Sirius grabbed Remus's arm in a pincer-like grip. "Dead?" he choked out, paling.

"No," Remus replied sharply. "Ambushed."

"Where? When?" Sirius gasped, tightening his grip, but Remus didn't flinch.

"Department of Mysteries. Now."

"The Department–" Sirius repeated. "Prophecy?"

"Voldemort lured him there to retrieve it," Remus agreed. "Snape's in the kitchen with informa–"

Shoving Remus out of the way, Sirius raced down the stairs to the kitchen.

Snape sneered at him as he skidded into the room, Remus following only a few steps behind and carefully rubbing his wrist.

"Potter left the grounds of Hogwarts three hours ago, accompanied by five other students." Waving his wand, Snape conjured up pictures of Ron, Ginny, Hermione, a blonde girl Sirius didn't know and a boy who looked eerily like a cross between Frank and Alice Longbottom. "They departed via thestrals and are currently at the Department of Mysteries. Potter was lured there by the Dark Lord," he added darkly, "who sent him an image of Black–" Here, he glared at Sirius, "–being tortured in the Department of Mysteries. Specifically, Prophecy Hall. I was not summoned, but I suspect that there are at least a dozen Death Eaters who have ambushed the students. The Dark Lord has learned from his encounters with Potter, and has resolved to send excess help from now on."

"Harry, Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Neville and Luna against a dozen Death Eaters?" Remus repeated, cringing, and Snape nodded curtly.

"Right, then," Tonks spoke up quickly. "What are we waiting for? Let's go."

Remus, Kingsley, Moody and Snape exchanged dark looks.

"I've contacted Dumbledore," Snape said suddenly. "He's on his way here."

"Can't he meet us there?" Sirius asked anxiously. "Let's _go_!"

"Black, you can't go," Snape replied impatiently. "The thought of losing you sent Potter into such a frenzy that he lost whatever remained of his ability to think rationally. If you go, he's doomed."

"That's my _godson_ you're talking about!" Sirius screamed. "We _have_ to save him! Hang Voldemort, hang whatever goddamned prophecy everyone cares so much about and hang the Boy-Who-bloody-Lived! I'm going to save _Harry_!"

"You can't go to the fight anyway, Snape," Tonks pointed out. "You can wait here for Dumbledore."

"I'm going," Sirius said shortly, grabbing his coat off a nearby chair and flinging them over his clothes. "Anyone else?"

"Sirius," Remus began tiredly, "you can't–"

"Shut up, Moony!" Sirius barked.

Moony shut up.

**PAINT IT BLACK**

The sight nearly made his heart stop. There was the Longbottom boy, writhing on the floor, and Harry, was his hand outstretched, a glass sphere held out to Malfoy –

Racing forward, he jumped from step to step, his eyes focused on Harry as he shot spells at the Death Eaters.

He threw himself into the fray with a vengeance.

Only moments later, he saw Dolohov bearing down on Neville and Harry, his face twisted with malice and glee –

Racing forward, he rammed into Dolohov, sending him flying across the room.

The rest of the battle was a blur to him – he remembered Tonks falling, running forward to battle Bellatrix, the heady feeling that came from fighting the woman who had tortured the Longbottoms to insanity, who had attacked Lily in their sixth year –

"Come on, you can do better than that!" he shouted.

And then she did.

As the jet of light hit him right in the chest, he sighed inside. He'd gotten arrogant again. James had always told him that there was no place for arrogance in battle….

He fell.

As the Veil fluttered out of place, Harry's face flashed through his mind.

Harry.

He hadn't failed. Harry was alive.

_Take that, Mother. _


End file.
